One person: Senior brother Zhang Zhiwei, the Celestial Master begged me to descend the mountain.

The countless blue dots of light were like a grand yet tranquil winter snowfall, gently falling on the ravaged land of Biyou Village.

There was no acrid smell of burning flesh, nor the distorted heat waves caused by high temperatures.

Under Zhuge Qing's control, the dark blue Samadhi Fire transformed into the gentlest rain, silently seeping into the bodies of every crazed villager.

"Well……"

The villagers, who had been roaring and waving their weapons, suddenly slowed down.

The middle-aged woman, her face contorted in a ferocious grimace, began to see a violent flash of crimson light in her eyes. As if witnessing something unbelievable, the cleaver clattered to the ground, and she clutched her head, letting out a low moan of pain mixed with a hint of relief.

Blue flames swirled in her seven orifices, each pulse carrying away a wisp of murky black energy.

That was greed forcibly catalyzed by the cultivation furnace, a mind distorted by external forces, and an unrealistic delusion of becoming an immortal.

Before the Samadhi Fire that burns the very soul, these baseless obsessions melt away like snow under the sun, vanishing into nothingness.

It wasn't just her.

In the square, hundreds of villagers were bathed in this blue rain of light.

The air, which was originally filled with violence and killing intent, was gradually replaced by a strange tranquility.

Those contorted faces began to relax, and the tense muscles began to unwind.

"thump."

The first villager collapsed to the ground, breathing evenly.

Then came the second, the third...

Like waves of harvested wheat, swathes of people fell. They were no longer the beasts that devoured people for some vague power, but had returned to being ordinary people who worked at sunrise and rested at sunset.

This time, however, they slept very soundly and peacefully.

Like a child who has just had a nightmare, finally finding a long-lost sense of security in their mother's arms.

Zhuge Qing stood at the very front of the crowd, still maintaining that one-handed lifting posture.

The blue flames on his body had gradually died down, leaving only a tiny spark at his fingertips, still flickering stubbornly.

His face was as pale as paper, even his lips were bloodless, and sweat dripped down his forehead, falling into the dust.

But this was probably the most disheveled, yet also the cleanest, moment of his life.

Those fox-like eyes, which were always squinting, were now fully open, their depths crystal clear, reflecting the scattered blue light and radiating a brightness that seemed to have been washed away.

"call……"

Zhuge Qing let out a long breath, looking at the crowd of people sleeping on the ground, a weak but genuine smile appeared on his lips:

"This is what they call... dust to dust, ashes to ashes."

"Go back to where you came from, be an ordinary person, there's nothing wrong with that."

Not far away, Zhang Chulan, who had been on tenterhooks the whole time, had his mouth agape wide enough to fit an egg.

He glanced at the corpses scattered on the ground, then at Zhuge Qing, who looked as if he might collapse at any moment, and couldn't help but reach out and poke Wang Ye beside him:

"Holy crap..."

"Old Wang, pinch me."

"This f***ing...this f***ing is Zhuge Qing?"

"Why did I get the feeling that for a moment just now, a halo of light almost emanated from the back of this guy's head?"

"This isn't burning people, it's practically a mass funeral rite!"

"This method... is ten thousand times more difficult than killing them, isn't it?"

Wang Ye slumped to the ground, too exhausted to even move a finger, but upon hearing this, he couldn't help but roll his eyes, though his gaze held a complex mix of emotions and relief.

"This is the Samadhi Fire."

"Refine others, refine your heart, and refine yourself."

"Old Qing has turned misfortune into blessing this time, and has completely overcome the hurdle in his heart."

At this point, Wang also sighed and said with a wry smile:

"Well, I used to be able to act all high and mighty in front of him, but now he's figured it out too. Things aren't going to be easy for me from now on."

Zhang Chulan pursed his lips and muttered under his breath:

"Tch, so what if you understand?"

"In front of my martial uncle, don't I still have to obediently serve him tea and water?"

Mentioning Zhang Taichu, both of them stiffened simultaneously, instinctively shutting their mouths and turning to look at the man who had been sitting on the ruins.

at this time.

As the last glimmer of blue light dissipated into the night sky.

The once noisy, chaotic, and hellish square of Biyou Village has become completely quiet.

The only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the night wind and the snoring of hundreds of people.

Zhang Taichu sat in the armchair, his teacup long since empty.

He paid no attention to the villagers who had collapsed and were unable to get up, nor did he heed Zhuge Qing's so-called enlightenment.

It was as if all of this was nothing more than a farce with a predetermined ending in his eyes, not worth his emotional investment.

"Smack."

Zhang Taichu casually tossed the empty teacup back into the food pouch in his sleeve.

Then, he slowly stood up.

His blue Taoist robe fluttered in the night wind, yet remained completely untouched by dust.

He strode forward, not towards the three younger men, but straight towards the figure still lying in the ruins, his fate unknown.

Ma Xianhong.

This is the idealist who created Biyou Village and wanted to change the world through the cultivation furnace.

At this moment, it was like a dead dog with its spine removed, curled up next to the pile of scrap metal remains of the body-refining furnace.

His body was covered in blood and dirt, his signature white shirt had turned grayish-black, and his disheveled hair obscured his face, making it impossible to see his expression.

Perhaps they dared not look, or perhaps they did not want to look.

When dreams shatter, one feels empty.

Zhang Taichu walked up to Ma Xianhong and stopped.

He looked down at the person at his feet, his eyes showing no pity, no mockery, only a chilling indifference.

That indifference was like looking at a tool that had been squeezed dry of its value.

"Wake up."

Zhang Taichu raised his foot and gave Ma Xianhong's shoulder a light kick.

No response.

Ma Xianhong remained motionless, his breathing so faint it was almost inaudible.

"Tsk."

Zhang Taichu frowned somewhat impatiently.

next second.

He reached out and grabbed Ma Xianhong's already soaked collar.

Whoosh!

As if lifting a bag of garbage, Zhang Taichu easily lifted this man, who weighed over 100 pounds, off the ground with one hand.

Ma Xianhong's limbs hung limply at his sides, his head drooping to one side, swaying with Zhang Taichu's movements, looking utterly miserable.

"Grandmaster Uncle..."

Seeing this, Zhang Chulan couldn't help but swallow hard, and cautiously moved closer:

"Well... Old Ma may be a bit stubborn, but isn't this a bit much...?"

"Isn't it a bit too heavy?"

"If they really get killed, it'll be hard to explain to the company."

Zhang Taichu glanced at him, his cold gaze causing Zhang Chulan to swallow the rest of his words.

"die?"

"It's not that easy to die."

Zhang Taichu, carrying Ma Xianhong, casually waved it around, his tone indifferent:

"He's tough as nails."

"We'll see."

Zhang Taichu raised his head, his gaze passing over the devastated ruins and the pitch-black forest.

His gaze seemed to pierce through the heavy night, through the endless void, and look towards an extremely distant and secret place.

There seemed to be a pair of eyes watching everything from the darkness.

A meaningful smile slowly curved the corners of Zhang Taichu's mouth.

That smile carried a hint of mockery, a touch of provocation, and a dash of excitement for the hunt about to begin.

"Although the play has ended."

"But the person who set up the stage hasn't been paid yet."

Zhang Taichu's voice was soft, yet it clearly penetrated the ears of everyone present, sending a chill down their spines for no apparent reason.

"The farce is over."

He carried Ma Xianhong, turned and walked towards the village entrance, each step steady yet carrying an undeniable domineering air.

"Next."

"It's time to settle the score."